The Power of a Grateful Heart
by Ladyembth
Summary: Eighteen months after jilting Edith, Anthony is a bitter and tormented man. Edith after suffering one of life's most traumatic events, now lives at the Abbey, in virtual seclusion, her writing days over. Can fate take one more deep breath and reunite these two miserable souls? Can love overcome anger, bitterness and misery.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: When I started writing this story I originally named it The Way Home. Something about that title bothered me until I realized that the author My Sweet One had a story by the same name. I removed the first chapter and have re-titled it. So here it is now with a new name. My apologies.**

The pain was unbearable; it felt like she was laying on a bed of knives. The contractions were coming closer together now, and her body's urge to push the baby out was taking over. Rosamund was holding her hand and wiping her face, her nightgown was plastered to her body by sweat. Dr. Reynold's, her aunt's private physician and his surgical nurse were there to help her through this. Her water had broken about four hours earlier, and they had taken her to the hospital immediately. She and her aunt had originally planned to go to Switzerland, but at the last moment Rosamund took control and decided that it would be better to stay in London, to have her personal physician take control of this pregnancy. Also, if there were any news of Michael Gregson she would be in London when it came. But nothing had come; all these long months and no news.

Edith heard the doctor tell her that he could see the crown of the baby's head. One more push and the baby would be here, finally.

"Come my dear, one more push. I know it is hard and you are tired, but you can do this," she heard her aunt say as she stroked Edith's hair with her fingers.

Suddenly the pain and pressure were gone and she heard, "It's a girl."

But that was all she heard. The baby wasn't crying and as she turned her head she saw the doctor and nurse working in the corner.

"Aunt Rosamund, why isn't she crying? Newborn babies are supposed to cry when they take their first breaths," Edith sobbed as she tried to raise up and see her baby.

Rosamund in her ever efficient, demanding way said, "Henry, what is happening?"

Dr. Reynolds wiped his hands and walked toward the bed.

"I'm so sorry, Lady Edith, but she didn't make it. Her little lungs were not strong enough to breath in air and support her little body. This happens in many cases where babies are born early. You still had about four weeks to go before you reached the end of your term."

"Can I see her please," Edith whispered through her tears," please"

Dr. Reynolds looked across the bed at Rosamund who nodded.

The other nurses in the room were cleaning up the afterbirth and Rosamund was wiping Edith's face and neck with a wet cloth as they slipped a clean hospital gown on her. It was then that Dr. Reynolds walked toward Edith and placed a bundle in her outstretched arms. Slowly Edith pushed back the blanket to see the face of her daughter. She was so small. She didn't know the color of her eyes because they were closed, but her hair was light, almost white. There wasn't very much of it but just enough that Edith could wrap a little of it around her finger. Her little hands were perfect. She had all ten fingers and although Edith didn't see, she knew she had ten toes as well. And her skin was so soft. Her little face reminded Edith of one of her baby dolls.

Turning to Rosamund, Edith said through her tears, "Aunt Rosamund, would you see if the hospital chaplin could come and christen her. She is my daughter and she deserves a name, please."

Edith had never seen her aunt cry, but the tears were cascading down her face. Turning to Dr. Reynolds Rosamund whispered, "Please Henry, help us get this done."

Reynolds nodded his head and whispered something to his nurse, and she quietly left the room closing the door silently behind her.

Edith continued looking at her daughter. She wanted to remember what she looked like, brand it behind her eyes so that she would never forget. Looking at the baby, Edith whispered to her, "You were wanted, you know . You would have been so loved and made to feel important every day. You would have been everything to me."

Turning to Dr. Reynolds she asked, "Do you have some scissors? She doesn't have much hair, but I would like to have as much of it as I can."

Reynolds walked to the table in the corner and brought back a small pair of scissors. Rosamund took a handkerchief out of her purse and held it out as Reynolds snipped off the longer strands of the baby's hair. Gently he dropped the strands into the handkerchief.

The door opened and the hospital chaplin entered carrying a small bowl of water, a towel and his vestment. Slowly walking over to Edith he said, "This is very unusual, but I understand, and if it will help to ease the pain in your heart ,then I will be happy to christen your baby. "

Putting his vestment around his neck, he asked, "What name is given to this child?"

"Hope," Edith said, her voice now firm.

"I baptize thee Hope in the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit," he continued as he gently sprinkled water on the baby's head. "Oh, Lord, accept the soul of this child as she comes to you on the wings of angels and God bless and protect her mother."

He gently squeezed Edith's hand before he turned and left the room. She felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her, she could think and breathe for the first time in about five minutes.

"Aunt Rosemund you have been so good to me, more so than anyone else in the family. Would you do one more thing? I want her buried . I want her in a place where I can come once in a while. There is that small chapel two blocks from your house. Would you see if she could be put there, and if an undertaker could come and keep her safe until I can come. Dr. Reynolds, when can I leave the hospital?"

"I would say in about three days. We want to make sure most of the afterbirth is gone and that you are strong enough to leave."

Not more than fifteen minutes had passed since Hope had been born and died. She had been christened and now arrangements were being made for a final resting place. Dr. Reynolds gently told Edith that the baby needed to go to the holding area to wait for the undertaker.

Rosamund crossed the room to Edith. "He needs to take her dear, she can't stay here any longer. I will go with him , call Williams and Son, and stay with her until they come. I promise. I will explain everything to them. Later today I will go to the chapel and see the vicar. I want you to rest and not to worry. There is nothing more you can do. "

Dr. Reynolds gently took the baby and waited by the door for Rosamund. She bent down and kissed Edith and brushed her damp hair back off her face. "Sleep my sweet girl, sleep. I will be back later. You won't be alone. I will be here with you."

But Rosamund was concerned about Edith's state of mind. She asked Reynolds if a nurse could stay with Edith until she got back and he reassured her that he would come back and see to it. He too understood what the trauma of losing a child can do to a person.

In the quiet of the room, the tears came again. How many times can a heart break before all will to live is gone? How many times must you be tested? How many times must you be punished? As she lay there broken and alone thinking about her baby, she put her hands over her eyes and whispered _Oh Anthony._


	2. Chapter 2

_**A****/N: This chapter is long because I wanted to summarize Anthony's life from the jilting in 1920 to 1922. His self-loathing has changed him and he isn't the kindly man he used to be. He seeks revenge against the Crawley's in the most subtle ways. Today when we confront a friend or family member who are exhibiting behavior that could damage their life, we call it an intervention. In 1922, I imagine that it would be called "butting into someone's business." In either case if it helps, then it was time well spent.**_

* * *

The first eighteen months after the most horrendous day of Sir Anthony Strallan's life, were spent mostly on the move. Leaving Yorkshire the day after he jilted the one true love of his life, Anthony first went to the continent moving aimlessly through Holland, Belgium, France and finally Italy. He settled for a time in the lovely little Italian city of Amalfi. The warm sun and friendly people helped him forget for a brief time what a wretched person he was. But what he had lost was rammed home everytime he saw a wedding, saw two people in love walking along the sandy beach, or even saw an older couple holding hands. When these scenes, and the torturous memories they invoked came to him, he would usually spend days cooped up and alone in the small villa he had rented. The hired servants rarely saw him. He stayed in Amalfi six months until the happiness of the place finally got the best of him and he left making his way to the closest port where he could book passage to America.

The States proved to be a better place for him. There was much more for him to do and he spent the next six months talking to farmers, and county extension agents about new farming methods and equipment. The memories only came back to him at night when he finally allowed himself to go to bed. There in the darkness of his hotel room his mind wandered back to Edith. He wasn't a coward, that had been proven during the war, but when it came to facing down Lord Grantham and his mother the Dowager Countess, his insecurities had gotten the best of him and he had caved in. He constantly wondered if he and Edith had managed to step back and have time to talk that day as Reverand Travis had suggested, the wedding would have proceeded; but he would never know. The dowager had stepped between them , stopping Edith from holding on to him and managing to insult him once again. The month leading up to that day had been a blur. He and Edith hardly had any time alone. There were so many things that he had wanted to tell her, mostly about the nightmares he sometimes suffered, but there had never seemed to be enough time. Even when they were alone at Locksley, their passion for each other seemed to override everything he wanted to say.

His arm had never bothered her and somehow he knew that the scars that accompanied it wouldn't bother her either. Everything they did was seared in his memory. Their walks, the way they held hands, the way they hugged and kissed each other, the spoken hopes, one to the other about how wonderful it would be when they could finally be together as man and wife. And then the phrase that the Dowager had used when talking to Travis, the innuendo, that somehow he wouldn't be able to fulfill his duties as a husband to Edith, as he had been able to do with Maud, because of his age. That statement, that cruel statement, is what shattered him, allowing all those insecurities to surface and override what he knew to be true about the love they felt for each other. Every time he was with her, from that first ride in 1914 to the day of the wedding, she aroused him in every way. It was only his upbringing and social status that kept him from making love to her. She wanted him to love her, and he knew that he was more than capable of doing so, but because he was a Victorian man trying to find his way in the new century, certain lines of propriety couldn't be crossed – and making love to a woman before she was your wife was one of them.

So here it was almost two years later that he found himself back at Locksley. He still yearned for her, read all her articles and pasted them lovingly in a scrapbook, and listened for any bit of news about her. He began again to build Locksley into one of the most profitable estate in England. But there was something else driving him – revenge. Somehow he would get even with the Crawleys, and he knew he could beat them at their own game. Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham so proud and stiff backed, not wanting to bring his old estate into the 20th century, the Dowager Countess not willing to let go of the reins of Downton, butting into situations that were none of her business; mother and son not willing to move forward. He had heard about Matthew Crawley's death and what he had been trying to do at the Abbey. What a tragedy, a young man who had survived the war only to die fifty years before his time. A young man with a vision toward the future. What a waste. He didn't know if it would be appreciated but he did write a letter of condolence to Isobel Crawley. Of all of them, she had been the only one to give support and encouragement to Edith and himself.

He didn' t care much for his looks anymore. His hair grew longer, and the rich blond color had started to fade and there were grey hairs at his temple. He didn't eat much, just enough to get him through each day. And to make matters worse, he wore the same clothes over and over. One could almost say that he looked like a gypsy. He bought a new car, a plain common black one. He put the Rolls in the garage, covered it and used the new car whenever he went out, so people wouldn't notice him. He spent almost all his days working with his tenants. As particles of land became available, he purchased them under the name of a company he had started. He went to livestock auctions and through his agent purchased more animals. He started a small company in York which manufactured replacement parts for the tractors, harvesters, thrashers, and other equipment that was used on the farms. It gave employment to many veterans of the war, but no one ever saw him. All business dealings were done through the man he had hired to be his manager. He and Anthony met every week to go over the accounts. For a man who was practically invisible, he was making a huge statement in the county.

Whenever he heard anything about Edith, his feelings flared and he began another assault on Crawley property. They had tried to pay the death taxes due when Matthew died, but had still been forced to sell off land – Anthony's little company bought it instantly. The Crawleys had no idea that Downton was slowly being integrated to Locksley. Anthony had hired George Murray as his new lawyer so that Murray would never be able to tell Robert Crawley who was slowly purchasing his land – client privilege and all that.

But Anthony's closest friends knew that his one weakness was and always would be Edith. He refused most of the invitations he received except those from Claudia and Hugh Jervis. Claudia made it easy for him to come to dinner and stay, first by nagging him, and then by making sure that the evenings were casual – no white or black tie, just comfortable clothes. They would eat meals that were light, usually three courses and then would retire and talk. Because the three of them were old friends hardly any subject was off limits. Claudia would bombast Anthony about how he needed to rethink his current look; after all he was a Baronet not a Bohemian. Hugh would keep him up to date on foreign policy and mention from time to time that the foreign office hoped he would re-consider their offer to come back to London and become involved again, if only part time. But it was hard to keep him engaged. They noticed that while he was with them physically, mentally he was somewhere else; and Claudia Jervis knew where that somewhere else was.

Claudia had done some poking around. Through her wide network of friends and acquaintances, she was able to find out all kinds of information. Women, no matter what their station in life liked to talk. And so it was that one evening with the Jervis', eighteen months after he had jilted Edith, Claudia Jervis managed to oil Anthony Strallan's gears and get him moving again. It was while sitting having coffee after dinner that Claudia casually said,

"Edith Crawley is back at the Abbey. She came with her mother and Isobel Crawley to one of my committee meetings. She didn't look very well at all. Lady Grantham is a patron you know," she said casually observing Anthony's reaction over her coffee cup.

"What, . . . . but I. . . . I thought she was living in London, writing for that paper, The Sketch isn't it," he said trying not to sound too flustered. His worst nightmare would be to meet her again, even by accident.

"Well, yes she was for a time. She and her editor got romantically involved and suddenly he up and left for Germany, and sort of disappeared off the map. The gossip is that he was married and hoped to get a divorce there, so he could marry Edith. Seems that his wife, according to him, was insane and in an institution," Claudia continued as if they were talking about some play or opera.

The look that Hugh Jervis shot his wife was one of _you've gone too far with him, _as Anthony's coffee cup crashed to the floor and his hands covered his face.

"You can't be serious about this," he said fighting the emotions that were welling up in him as he knelt down to pick up the broken pieces of china. "You know I wanted her to meet someone close to her own age, someone she could love and make a life with, not get involved with a married man. How in the name of God did that happen?"

Claudia told him everything she knew watching him as he fought back his tears. "I wanted so much better for her, and now her reputation is tarnished because of that relationship," he whispered, his breaths coming shallow with each new revelation.

"Well, there is a little bit more," Claudia stated.

"Claudia," Hugh Jervis said. "Enough is enough."

Taking his hands away from his eyes Anthony looked at Hugh and then at Claudia. "What do you mean enough is enough, if there is more, tell me!" and by now he was shouting.

"After Gregson left, Edith discovered she was pregnant. She stayed with her Aunt Rosamund through her confinement and delivered a stillborn child six months ago," Claudia said, suddenly realizing that maybe she had gone too far with this man she and Hugh loved like a brother.

Anthony's hands were covering his eyes and tears were streaming down his face. "Oh, my darling, my darling" he cried over and over. "This is all my fault."

Claudia Jervis, never one to mince words took one of her linen cocktail napkins and handed it to Anthony saying, "Anthony, pull yourself together. If you still love her and I know you do, you can only help her by being strong. I saw your face that day as you walked away. I saw your torture and heartbreak. You let her go because you loved her, but you were so wrong. You let a fragile soul out of your safe keeping. No wonder, with no support from her family, she was so easily charmed and led astray.

"And this is what all the gossips are saying?" he asked with agony in his voice.

"I pieced together the things I heard and then asked Isobel Crawley. She agrees with me about Edith. She is confined to the Abbey. Her father won't let her write again. She is now her mother's social secretary. She has no life, she is nothing more than an unpaid servant. Isobel is a fine woman, she would never have told me these things unless I had confronted her first with what I had suspected. She blames the Crawley's, as you do, for interfering and making it so difficult for you and Edith to be together. "

Finally after trying to come to grips with everything Claudia had told him, he looked at Claudia, his face wet from his tears.

"Claudia, do you think she could ever forgive me for what I did?" Anthony asked with pleading eyes.

"I think Edith Crawley, as hurt as she was, most likely forgave you that day. I think she knew you suddenly were scared and I firmly believe that if her grandmother had not interfered, the two of you would be sitting here now as husband and wife. The blame doesn't fall on you Anthony. They picked away at your self-confidence, not realizing what they were doing."

"So what am I to do. You know I leave in two weeks for New York to have that operation on my arm that Clarkson has arranged."

"Did you ever tell her that you loved her?" Claudia asked matter-of-factly.

"Well not is so many words, but I believe she knew what she meant to me," he said now composed.

"Good God, Anthony, it only takes three words _I Love You_ to get the point across, I watched her as she walked down the aisle to you. Her love for you was written all over her face. She was radiant, walking toward the man she loved," she answered, now exasperated with him.

"Write to her. Explain how you feel. Ask her forgiveness. Ask her if you can write to her while you are gone. If she still has feelings for you, you will know by her reply. If she doesn't, then you will know that as well," Hugh Jervis chimed in, putting things in perspective as he always did.

"How will I know she will even get my letter. Robert Crawley knows my handwriting. He would tear up any letter I sent. I tried to write to her so many times, but ripped them all up because I knew she would never get them, or much less read them, and besides they were pretty lame" he continued now feeling better since Hugh had given him a plan.

"Go see Isobel Crawley. I think she would try to help you. Tell her how you feel. Either she will agree to help you or she won't, but Anthony, she has never turned her back on someone who needs help," Claudia said now putting her arm around him and hugging him. "Just do it, please!"

So when Anthony Strallan went home the next day, his brain was going a mile a minute. He would finally write that letter to Edith, never mentioning anything about what he had heard, only asking her forgiveness. If he could get that, then maybe he could move forward and forge some permanent plan for his life and hers.


End file.
